Marmite? Why?

Sometimes in life, a picture comes along that is a god given opportunity (sorry the Reverend Jeff) for an arch blogger such as myself. Such a picture I feature today. The pose itself is for a worthy charitable cause and features from left to right Peachy Butterfield, the Naked Politician (how apt), soon to be a politician again – watch this space -, Peter “Blue Water” Bennett and Alistair the Air. I think it was in aid of breast cancer and our very own south of France calendar boys raised a significant amount of money for this worthy cause. What I am trying to work out is the significance of the Marmite jar. I took the picture of the greetings (sic) card, but had failed to notice the jar of that disgustingly glutinous meat extract beside it until I looked at it yesterday morning.

I spent some time during daylight hours trying to decide exactly how to work the meat extract theme to the photograph into this daily missive and so far I have not been able to come up with anything. I should be glad of some input from you, my reader, in the comments section below. I do like the pink touch.

meat extract indeed

Bored by having no car, due to the serious illness of the 4×4 skip owned by That Nice Lady Decorator, and its’ incarceration at the Hyundai garage, we ventured into Valbonne yesterday lunchtime for some boring bank stuff, and as it was so hot, we were forced to find solace in a couple of beers, a pizza and a small carafe of wine at lunchtime. We decided to give Cafe Des Arcades another chance, as it was comparatively quiet. By comparatively , I mean it was only about 85% capacity, and it showed signs of returning to form as the holiday rush abates.

Last night to the house of gypsy girl Pippa and brooding Latin rugby playing Gerald from Blue Square estate agents in Valbonne for a barbecue and to discuss matters of great import surrounding the services of Currencies Direct. Gerald was fascinated by the smart phone App called “Mosquito”, loaded on to my phone which emits a high-pitched whine which cannot be detected by the human ear. He actually asked me if it was supposed to attract Mosquitos and received a guffaw and a withering look from his lovely wife, and the chance once again to feature in this column.

Gerald did have the good grace to consider an idea I had put to him, that new customers in his estate agent offices should be given a copy of my latest book, so that they could gain some insight into the local area and its characters. However he wanted to limit this to English-speaking customers who actually bought a property, and the are precious few of those around at present. However, the idea found favour with Pippa, who, perhaps under the influence of too much Chateau du Berne rose, suggested that Currencies Direct should buy a copy of my book for each new customer signing up for an account via this column. So, before she withdraws this wonderful offer, anyone who signs up by filling in this form contained in the link (for some of my less computer literate readers that means you click on the highlighted text) will entitle me to charge Currencies Direct for a free signed copy of The Valbonne Monologues for the lucky new account opener.

Finally, as it was getting late, I heard some revelations about a swingers club in Mougins, exposed recently in a programme on French TV. Gerald was unwilling to reveal details except to say that a some of his friends whom he thought were straight seemed to be featured in this piece of French investigative journalism. Are any of you worried?